


Like A Moth To A Flame

by danithemani



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Father Figures, Gay Sex, Interracial Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danithemani/pseuds/danithemani
Summary: Moth's life had been basically the same since he graduated out of the Legion. Sharpen a few swords, argue with his sister, and have a drink at the inn.Then all of the sudden, a new High Elf came into Markarth, became a Thane, and started to act like he owned the place.Did Moth mind? Not one bit.





	1. Chapter 1

“What have you got for sale?”

It was the third time this week he had sold Moth what was left of a Forsworn camp. It was impressive, especially for a mage - and a High Elf at that. Not that he had seen much of him; everything but piercing green eyes and a bronzed nose was hidden behind superbly polished Elven armor. It was a skill that had to have been honed over years of practice, and it impressed him. Yet, there was something about the armor that didn’t seem quite right. He thought maybe it was the enchantments he had placed on it, but it was more than that. It sort of, floated on his body - it didn’t sink onto his skin as it did to the other men that came through his smithy. There was no heaviness in his gait as he walked, and he never seemed to drag the floor with boots nor did he march with the steadfastness of a warrior. But there was skill and sureness in his step. It was like the world was a cloud under his feet and the stone itself moved for him. Moth tried to focus on the forge. There was no point thinking about it too much, outlanders came and outlanders went. He had learned during the time in the Legion not to get attached.

 

“I don’t know why you’re asking, you never buy anything,” Moth snorted, glaring over white tusks. He was trying to hide his wandering eyes behind a deep scowl; he wished he could see more of what was hidden behind the helmet. He had a golden voice - and not just because he was an Elf. It was deep, but not gruff like his own. Even as Moth seemed to protest, the Elf emptied his loot onto his workbench. It obviously didn’t matter what he had to say, it was all on the table already. “But the Jarl loves to see this in his storeroom,” he added, gingerly holding a Forsworn headdress, “so I’ll bite.”

 

“Oh don’t be so grouchy, I bought some moonstone a few days ago. Can’t mine it all myself. You know they don’t make this stuff as well as they used to,” he replied, tapping on his chest piece. The Elf was playful and annoyingly so, but even this early in the morning he somehow found it charming. Moth rolled his eyes, unsure if the insult was intended. He quickly replied “It isn’t personal, I just prefer to make my own. Armor is something intimate. You can tell a lot about a man from the way he works metal into craft.” It was true. The heavier the armor, the truer the man, many Nords thought. But there was much more to it than that.

 

Moth was just beginning to imagine what those flexible fingers could do as he heard a crash from outside the door. The Elf rolled his eyes and turned around sharply, leaving at least two hundred pounds of armor and weapons on Moth’s floor and workbench.

 

“Come on Erik, you go sit down and I’ll carry the rest up the stairs.”

 

“No no I got it! It just, just.. slipped out of my hands,” the redhead looked up from his trophies, scattered across the floor. “Ever since you worked on these gauntlets I haven’t been able to keep a hold on anything.”

 

“Maybe you need a few days off, Erik. Rayya might be able to help you get some practice in. I’ll take some time and pick up a few more ingredients while we’re here.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Gods these beds are terrible, how does anyone ever sleep in this city?”  
“Some of us don’t. The rest of the us get by with lots of strong drink.”  
“So what’s with the kid? I didn’t think you High Elves liked Nords very much,” Moth asked, a harsh scowl adorned across his face.  
“I don’t have a lot in common with most of my kind. Just because I look like a Thalmor doesn’t mean I am.”  
“What about the armor? Don’t you mages like robes over steel?”  
“It is preferable. I’d prefer the feel of comfy robes over this damned quicksilver any day,” he replied, crossing and uncrossing his ankles, “but I have people who depend on my coming home in one piece.”  
“Oh, that’s right. You’re the thane here, aren’t you?”   
“Here and just about everywhere else. The Gods have blessed me with people always in need of help. It’s why I travel. The blood I work to shed isn’t honorable, but sometimes war is the only solution. If these Nords want to thank me for that, then that’s on their hearts.”  
Moth only nodded.  
“Falkreath is where I prefer to rest my head if I have a chance. I have an anvil and a garden and a bed I can call my own.” He lifted his head up and smiling, added, “and two beautiful ladies that keep me in line.”

Girls? Was he married? 

“Oh no, no. Of course not. I have children. Not of my own blood, but children of my own all the same. Two little girls I found orphaned on the streets; Lucia and Sofie.”

“I’m sure they must be proud of who their father is. To have a strong smith and a clever mage as a father is not something many children can say they have. In these troubling times, fewer children can say they have a father at all.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel like much of one. I have a housecarl, of course, but it is not her job to raise my children. Rayya is herself a wonderful woman, but isn’t a mother. They are safe and well-fed, and have a roof over their head… But I’m not there as much I would like.”

“You are a good man, Rukeli. I’m sure your daughters know how you feel.”


	3. Chapter 3

Moth watches the elf undress, seeing his bronze skin hit the light for the first time. He had only ever seen him in a set of full armor, and he wasn’t disappointed. He was lean, as he imagined Elves were, but his taut muscles surprised him.   
“I thought you said you were a mage?” Moth asked, inquisitively, allowing his eyes to focus in on Rukeli’s bare chest.  
“I am. But someone had to show Erik how to fight,” he answered, slipping off his lower armor to show the worn leather underneath.


	4. Chapter 4

Rukeli could feel Moth’s strong hands holding his back steady, strong and insistent. All he could think about was how much he wanted Moth inside of him. To feel flesh and heat in the deepest of places. It wouldn’t be his first time, of course. Nor even his first time with an Orc. In his adventures across Tamriel, Rukeli had his fair share of experiences with all kinds of men. But for some reason this felt like a new experience. He could feel his heart racing and hoped that Moth couldn’t hear it. 

Moth on the other hand, could feel his own heart in his throat. He wasn’t exactly new to this either, but it had been long a time since he felt any real sense of release. He had a shuffle or two with his sister’s apprentice, but Tacitus was skittish and clumsy and Ghorza didn’t appreciate any distractions. The boy hadn’t even been able to smith a nail - and he wasn’t much better with his mouth. Moth quickly realized that between his sister’s nagging and Tacitus’ inexperience he was better off to, well, take matters into his own hands. He had only his fantasies and a strong grip under his belt. 

He had seen a few men in his time in the Legion, mostly Imperials and a few Nords, and of course other Orcs like himself. They weren’t anything to write home about. In all honesty, we was self-conscious about his limited encounters. He had always fancied himself well-endowed, even amongst members of his own race. But this High Elf didn’t have something to turn your nose up at, either. They had never quite agreed who would be the hammer and who would be the anvil, and Moth wasn’t quite sure he could handle it.

Moth licked his lips in anticipation. His cock quivered against the Elf’s bronze stomach. His teeth and tusks tore at Rukeli’s neck while the the blacksmith’s strong hands on his hips were his only anchor to the world around the Elf.


End file.
